After flying in Ferrari, felon tells a tangled tale

April 19, 2006|By William Booth, The Washington Post.

LOS ANGELES — On a winter dawn on a razor-straight stretch of the Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu, a lipstick-red Ferrari Enzo crested a hill at a speed that sheriff's investigators would later calculate to be 162 m.p.h.

The car--if that word is not too lame to describe a 660-horsepower V12 rocket on wheels worth $1.6 million, one of only 400 ever made, described variously as "rolling art" and "the greatest performance road car ever"--went airborne.

It careered into a utility pole, which sliced the vehicle in two, and scattered shredded Ferrari bits over a debris field that measured 1,200 feet.

Now the story gets weird. And like many tales involving allegedly purloined roadsters, video games, Malibu and a mysterious pair of dudes who claimed to be Homeland Security agents, this one found its way to the Los Angeles criminal courts on Monday.

Bo Stefan Eriksson, 44, formerly of Sweden, was arraigned and is being held in lieu of $5 million bail, charged with embezzlement and grand theft auto.

When Los Angeles County sheriff's deputies came upon Eriksson on the morning of Feb. 21, they were impressed that he was not only alive but also standing by his disassembled car.

Eriksson said he had not been driving. He told officers he was the passenger and a German named "Dietrich" was the driver.

There was a problem, however. Eriksson did not know Dietrich's last name or where he resided, and Dietrich was gone, having allegedly hightailed it on foot into the canyons of Malibu. Despite a lengthy search by law enforcement, no Dietrich was found--if he ever existed, which police doubt.

Eriksson had a blood alcohol level of 0.09 at 6 in the morning, which would have made him legally drunk, had he been driving. He also suffered a cut on his face, and there was reportedly blood on the air bag that deployed upon impact on the driver's side.

Over the next weeks and months, as the Los Angeles Times kept readers abreast of the developments, sheriff's investigators revealed that Eriksson was an executive behind a failed video-game console known as Gizmondo.

According to court papers, Eriksson lived in a gated $5 million mansion in Bel Air and was a felon who had served time in Sweden for a string of crimes involving drugs, arms, assault, kidnapping, counterfeiting and forgery. When police searched his home, they also said they found a Smith & Wesson handgun, which a convicted felon is not allowed to keep.

At the scene of the Ferrari's demise, according to sheriff's spokesmen, Eriksson had identification purporting to show him as a deputy commissioner of an anti-terrorism police unit of the San Gabriel Valley Transit Authority, which maintains a small fleet of vans used to give rides to the elderly and infirm.

While Eriksson spoke with deputies, two other men arrived at the scene of the crash and said they were with the Department of Homeland Security. They spoke with Eriksson and left. Sheriff's investigators say they don't know who they were.

The Times reports that there may also be video of the accident, shot by Eriksson or his associates as they screamed down the road.

Finally, there was not one Ferrari Enzo but two. The red one, which was destroyed, and a black one were imported into the United States from England by Eriksson along with a rare Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren, though he does not own them.

A British bank apparently does, and no recent payments have been made, according to a spokesman for the sheriff's department. The three vehicles, valued at $3.8 million, are the center of the prosecutor's case that Eriksson stole the cars.

Eriksson on Monday pleaded not guilty to all counts.

Eriksson's attorney, David Elden, told the judge the cars had been imported legally and their ownership is part of a civil suit.